Both of us were thrust into a position that made us uncomfortable but we could do nothing about it. The blonde walked in silence and I chose to honor his unspoken request.
Shizuo didn't take me to his apartment as I thought he would. Instead, the bartender took a sharp right and before I knew it we were standing in front of the familiar fortress of a underground doctor. Shizu-chan half dragged me up the stairs because I had grown bored of trying to cooperate. I thought he was going to punch me at one point, but he held back as the door swung open. Celty ushered us in, giving me what I assumed to be the once over. It was apparent by her mannerisms that she questioned my state and looked (again, I just assume she looked) at Shizuo expectantly. In response, the bartender unceremoniously dropped me onto the leather sofa.
"He's a bit shit-faced. Mind if he crashes here?" The dark aura around the Black Rider pulled violently. She reached for her phone and began to type rapidly, before she pushed it in Shizuo's face. "My apartment is out of the question. At least that idiot is neutral with you and Shinra…speaking of whom, where is he?" The woman placed a hand on her hip, before she pointed the bedroom door. Celty typed a longer message, one that made Shizuo blush considerably before the color drained from his face completely. "Right…I'll leave you two alone."
As soon as I had gotten somewhat comfortable, the blonde pulled me back up, hurrying me out of the apartment.
"Nngh? Now, where are we going, Shi-zu-chan?" His hand clenched mine tightly as he tugged me down the street, murmuring irritated noncommittal sounds as we rounded the corner.
Guilt did strange things to people. Was Shizuo honestly feeling guilty about the situation? Granted, it was his fault – but it was also partially mine as well. I had been more willing to drink the poison that he'd prepared for me earlier in the evening. In fact, I had been the one to initiate contact and asked him to make it – I knew full well what I was getting myself into.
Vaguely, I wondered whether Shizzy would just drop me at a cheap hotel and let me sober up. It would have been like him. I tried to maneuver the hand that wasn't clasped with his into my pocket, brushing my fingertips over the remaining yen. If it did come to a hotel I wouldn't be able to afford one, at least not on my own.
I'd never realized how many broken people there were in the city of Ikebukuro. They hid in the shadows of alleyways, lighting up – their hollow eyes reflecting the flickering flame. Hands trembling, mouths greedily sucking the smoke in, blackening their lungs. Needles hidden inside collapsed veins, syringes filled with blood and toxins being pushed into blood streams – we were in the slums.
Despite all the poverty, I was amused. Walking through this environment, I vaguely wondered if Shizuo had ever been tempted to strike them – beat some sense into them. I looked at the humans – my humans – sprawled across benches, leaning against walls. The drunks, the smokers, the druggies – they were all the same, boring.
I looked up at Shizuo who didn't make eye contact with anyone and kept his pace brisk. He could have been one of those people, too. He smoked and it was more than likely that he drank to relieve the daily nerve strain (especially with a person like me to worry about), but unlike those people, he had a reason to live. I was repeating myself, but I wanted to know what that reason was.
It wasn't long before we arrived at the small, rundown apartment. Shizuo shoved the key into the lock and flipped the switch for the light. The blonde stepped back to allow me inside, raking his eyes over me. Did he think that I'd fall? Pfft. As soon as I crossed the threshold, he shut the door and locked it once more.
His apartment was simple – quaint, and I honestly had expected it to be much more. An empty coke can stuffed with dead cigarettes sat on the end table and the blonde picked it up on his way into the kitchen, recycling it. I wasn't sure what I was expected to do so I sat (dropped) on the floor, legs crossed. The distinct smell of coffee filtered through the room a moment later and I waited patiently for Shizuo to bring me a mug. That never happened.
"Cream and sugar, please." I called, only to have my request met with silence. Irritated, I pushed myself up on wobbly legs, feeling much like a newborn as I teetered into the kitchen. The bartender glanced at me over his mug, pointing to the pot.
"You like a challenge, Izaya. You'll have to work for it." I wanted him to choke on the words I had previously used against him.
The first time that I had been intoxicated in quite a while, I had coffee in the kitchen of my favorite enemy.